Being an editor of higher education publications was my work, work that matters, but it didn’t define who I was. It was a role that no longer fit me as well as it once had. It was a role ready for someone else because I was ready for something else.
Moving forward requires a refashioning of who you are. It feels like every time I’ve figured out who I am, life happens, and I’m left scrambling to figure it out again and again and again. It’s an endless process.
It’s more of the same. I feel suffocated by the sameness; clawing at my throat will leave nothing but wounds that I’ll have to tend to. I don’t have time to tend to them. I remind myself to breathe, and I do.